


Knee Deep at MSP

by sarken



Category: Real News RPF
Genre: Gen, Minnesota, Republican National Convention, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-25
Updated: 2010-03-25
Packaged: 2017-10-08 07:57:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/74395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarken/pseuds/sarken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rachel and Keith go out on the last night of the Republican convention.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Knee Deep at MSP

**Author's Note:**

> Written primarily in August 2008, prior to the RNC.

On their last night in the Twin Cities, Rachel tells Keith they should hit the town. She actually uses those words, but her sardonic tone keeps Keith from minding too much. He still puts up a token protest, telling her to go have fun without him, but Rachel just says, "Who am I supposed to take with me? Pat?"

"I was going to suggest Joe, but I suppose Pat is a viable alternative. Or you could check with Chris, see what he's up to later," Keith responds. He nods toward Chris, who is yelling at something on his laptop.

"Keith," Rachel says, and there's that edge to her voice, brilliant and spirited and pushy, and Keith knows he's a goner. "My show starts in three days, and then I'm going to turn into a hermit of Olbermannian proportions. Do you really think Joe Scarborough is capable of showing me a good time and making tonight worth my while? If you do, I'll go find him, but I really think that, of the two of you, you're probably a little bit more fun to hang out with. But only a little bit, mind you."

They're getting counted back from commercial, so he just sighs. "Where are we going?"

"I don't think I'm going to tell you," Rachel says. She adjusts her earpiece and smiles at Keith as he launches into, "Welcome back to MSNBC's live coverage of the 2008 Republican National Convention. I'm Keith Olbermann, alongside Chris Matthews, and we're joined now by Rachel Maddow..."

-

Keith isn't really sure how Rachel found this place, this weathered building that's painted the color of a peach Crayola crayon. The awning is clownish, pink with thick purple stripes, and a gay pride flag covers the lone front window. He wants to ask her why they are here, if she seeks out places like this, if there is some sort of underground network where she gets her information.

"Isn't Google great?" she asks, laughing, like she can read his mind.

He doesn't understand how Rachel can do that, can solve one mystery for him only to create another. He hasn't known her very long, but he feels like he should know her better. He should be able to read her half as well as she can read him.

-

They've been sitting at the bar long enough to have a couple of drinks, and he is stupidly surprised that the alcohol affects her so quickly. There are male strippers behind him, and Rachel has her back to the bar, laughing delightedly as she watches them.

"What is it with you and naked men?" Keith asks, leaning into her, bumping his shoulder against hers. "The attraction seems odd, considering."

She is chewing on the plastic sword she stole -- along with the olive -- from his martini, and she shifts it to the left corner of her mouth before answering. "I wouldn't call it an attraction," she says. "It's more like a morbid fascination. You, though..."

He barks a laugh, too harsh and too loud, and it's possible he's a little drunk. "Me, though? Rach, I think your gaydar is a little broken. Unless, of course, you're coming onto me, in which case...in which case, I think your gay is broken."

She quirks a smile at him that makes his heart beat faster. "You're such an egotist," she says. "My gay, as you put it, is fine. I am not a three-beer straight."

"You're not drinking beer," he says, and he's not exactly sure what she's drinking.

"It's an expression."

Keith turns around, putting his back against the bar. "I believe the actual expression is 'three-beer queer.'"

"Or, in your case, a martini and a half." Rachel frowns at herself, the little plastic sword flopping downward in her mouth. "I'm sorry. That was probably out of line. It's not -- it's just, Keith, you don't have to...you've been staring at your hands all night. Yes, they're remarkably hairy, but you've had like thirty-five years to get used to that. It shouldn't be fascinating anymore. You can look at other things. No one is going to care."

Thoughtfully, he takes a sip of his drink. "My hands are hairy?" he asks.

"You have gorilla hands, Keith. Don't try to change the subject."

"And what was that again?"

Rachel gives an exasperated sigh and an exaggerated shrug. "I don't remember," she says, rolling her eyes. She passes her drink to the other hand and slides an arm around Keith. Resting her head on his shoulder, she leans heavily against him. "Watch the strippers with me, Keith."

-

Outside her room, he brushes the hair back from her forehead and kisses her hairline. The taste of hairspray and sweat stays on his lips, and Keith finds himself losing time as he stares into her eyes. "We have to be on the road in four hours," he reminds himself, and Rachel smiles up at him.

"Stay up with me?" she says, her arm bent behind her, hand resting on the doorknob.

He thinks about it, about hairspray and sweat, about four hours and three days, but he knows there's more to the future than that. He presses his lips together, and shaking his head is one of the hardest things he'll ever have to do.


End file.
